


Petty Cash

by kuonji



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Mentors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Clark?  Clark, it's me, Dick."  It came from down towards the city, perhaps half a mile away and obviously pitched for his super-hearing.  Clark wouldn't have caught it if it weren't for his name and the familiarity of the voice.  "Can I talk to you?  Please?  It's really important."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petty Cash

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Links:  
> <http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/53875.html>

"Well, I guess that'll be all. Thanks for your time, Mr. Wayne."

"Anytime, Clark. I'm a great admirer of your writing." Both men laughed. Bruce smiled sardonically as Clark clicked off his tape recorder. "It's good to read something tasteful about myself now and then," he commented, his voice slipping into the lower register he tended to use when in private settings.

Clark packed his tape recorder away and donned his hat. "With the kind of news you usually make, should you be anything but surprised!"

"You entertain Metropolis with your flashy tricks, and I entertain Gotham with mine."

"Just be glad Steinhaus was ill today and I happened to hear about it in time to volunteer to take his place. Even your philanthropic acts would be torn apart by his rapier pen."

"Don't do me any favors, Kent." The other man opened the study door for him and walked him out down the hallway and the grand sweeping stairs of the Manor.

Despite his words, there was more to Clark's visit today than averting a rent to Bruce Wayne's reputation. Bruce, after all, had amply shown that he could take the abuse with a befuddled smile and a witty line or two. No, the truth was, Clark enjoyed opportunities to visit his Gotham City neighbor under his civilian guise.

He'd come to understand that 'Bruce' was a veneer for Batman, but for Clark, his civilian identity was how he thought of himself most often. He liked best being able to feel 'normal' but at the same time being among people who understood the responsibilities and satisfaction that watching over a city brought.

There was another bonus, of course, to visiting Wayne Manor.

"Clark!"

At the bottom of the stairs, Bruce's young ward stood gaping for a moment before he broke out into a wide grin. Clark waved. "Hello, Dick."

"I didn't know you would be here," Dick said, with that infectious gee-golly enthusiasm that Clark had come to love. Despite his work as the junior half of Batman and Robin, the boy retained a sense of innocence and joy in his life. The majority of Clark's comrades on both sides of the cape tended to be so _grim_. It was nice to have a teammate who shared Clark's optimism for the human race.

"Work, I'm afraid. I have to head back to the office now. I have a _tasteful_ article to write." He winked at Bruce, who returned an exasperated look.

"I'll watch the paper for it," Dick promised. His smile dropped slightly as he looked to his guardian. "Bruce, I'm heading out for a little while. Is that okay?"

"Be back in time for dinner."

"I will." He waved goodbye to Clark before leaving. Clark wondered if he was imagining the... concern in Dick's expression as he gave Clark a last look over his shoulder.

He made the usual social niceties and bid farewell to both Bruce and Alfred. He was getting into his car when he heard it:

_"Clark? Clark, it's me, Dick."_

It came from down towards the city, perhaps half a mile away and obviously pitched for his super-hearing. Clark wouldn't have caught it if it weren't for his name and the familiarity of the voice.

_"Can I talk to you? Please? It's really important. Woodrow Park, okay? The trees by the playground. I'll head over there now."_

Dick sounded anxious. He had no way to reply to the boy, of course, but he pointed his vehicle toward the park in question. If Dick cut across the roads, they should both arrive at about the same time. He wondered what could be important enough that Dick wished to speak privately with him about it.

Once there, he swept the small playground with his eyes but saw no one. "Dick?" he called.

There was a giggle from behind him -- behind and _above_ \-- and he spun around just in time to see Dick launch himself out of the upper reaches of an oak tree at him. With his reflexes, he easily managed to catch the boy safely. In the back of his head, however, Batman commented snidely on how super-speed was not supposed to make up for being caught unprepared.

Dick, in contrast, grinned in delight over his successful ambush. Clark wondered what Dick would have done if Clark hadn't been able to catch him. It was clear that he had trusted Clark to do just that. The young acrobat wouldn't have come to harm in any case, of course, but it was one of the things that always gave Clark pause.

It constantly amazed him how someone who had no flight capabilities could so casually hurl himself into empty space the way Batman and his protégé did. And unlike his mentor, who used his aerial abilities for efficiency and intimidation, Dick actively enjoyed being up in the air. Clark had seen him leap out of second-story windows without much thought. With a grapple line in hand, not even the cliff-like highrises of Gotham could faze him. His parents' deaths didn't seem to have put him off in the least from 'flying'.

Laughing again, Dick pushed off from Clark's chest and somersaulted backwards to land neatly on his feet. "Thanks for coming," he said.

"Glad to," he replied. Now what did you want to talk about?"

The sparkle in Dick's lively eyes evaporated, and his normally restless body stilled. He looked around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, and he stepped in close before saying, "I did something bad. Something _real_ bad, and I have to tell Bruce about it." He looked down at his shoes, suddenly looking very much his age. How old was Dick now? Ten? Eleven? "Would you come with me?"

Clark tried to imagine what Dick could possibly have done to incur Bruce's wrath -- and came up short. Bruce struck him as generally easy-going about things that weren't to do with his crusade. True, those things were few, but if the problem were Robin-related, Clark doubted Dick would have come to him.

Hunkering down to eye-level with the boy, he placed a hand on Dick's shoulder, mindful to keep it gentle. "Of course I will. But can you tell me first what happened?"

The quick relief on Dick's face turned instantly to alarm. Clark felt his shoulder stiffen. Dick bit his lower lip and glanced away, then back. "I--" he finally stammered. "I've been stealing money from Alfred's petty cash drawer."

He couldn't have imagined anything less expected, and not only because it was deeply uncharacteristic for Dick to take something that wasn't his. If there was one thing Bruce was free with, it was money. The man who actively encouraged his underage partner to fly the million-dollar batjet also regularly gifted his ward with extravagantly expensive toys and a generous allowance along with freedom to spend it. It was good for his civilian cover, was how Bruce explained it, though Clark secretly suspected it had something to do with Bruce's loss of his own childhood at a young age.

"Why?" Clark asked.

"I needed the money. A lot of it. Except--" The boy heaved a dramatic sigh. "I'd rather just tell you both at the same time. Is that okay?"

"Yes, of course. If that's what you want."

The look of utter gratitude on Dick's face made Clark hold out his hand to the boy. Dick took it with no hesitation, clinging tightly and letting go only when they reached Clark's car and he got into the passenger side.

"Buckle up," Clark reminded out of habit, even as Dick was already doing so.

The whole ride back, Dick flicked his gaze between the windshield and Clark's face. Clark tried to exude patience and comfort, but without knowing the details, he couldn't assuage Dick's fears. "It'll be all right," he said, patting the boy's knee when they reached the Manor gates. Dick nodded but didn't look any less green about the gills.

Alfred must have been surprised to see Clark come back with 'Master Richard' in tow, but he made no comment other than to let them know that 'Master Bruce' was in his study. Clark assumed he would telephone Bruce on the internal line to notice him of his returned visitor. He took Dick's hand again -- the move made even more natural by Dick's escalating nervousness -- and retraced his path from earlier this morning, the boy marching bravely by his side.

In front of Bruce's office, he looked up one more time at Clark, then took a deep breath, quickly dropped Clark's hand, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Bruce still sat in the corner sofa where the interview had been conducted. He had a book in hand that he placed unhurriedly on the endtable once his ward and his visitor entered. He didn't offer Clark a seat but instead stood himself. He waited, hands behind his back, until Dick had reached the middle of the floor.

"Yes?" he said, his voice mild but his visage stern. He surely suspected something.

Dick jumped slightly, and Clark put a hand on his shoulder. The boy leaned into his touch, visibly listing. Bruce's eyes flicked to Clark's hand. He frowned -- and Dick straightened immediately. Clark put his hands in his pockets, trying to remain unobtrusive. He waited for Dick to gather his courage and his voice, anxious on the boy's behalf.

"What is it, Dick?" Bruce asked.

"Um! Ah, the-- Uh."

" _Robin_. Report."

That seemed to jumpstart the boy's mouth. "The petty cash that Alfred said was missing. I stole it."

Bruce merely regarded Dick silently. Curious, Clark reached out his senses. The other man gave no physiological indication of agitation or even surprise. He had the sudden idea that Bruce had probably known all along. "Go on," Bruce said, finally.

"We had a math test a few months ago that I didn't have the time to study for." At Bruce's frown, the boy hurried to say, "I _know_ I'm supposed to tell you if I don't finish my homework, but we were going after those jewel thieves, remember? You needed the backup. So, so anyway, I didn't do too well on the test. Mr. Nelson said I'd have to have you sign it and bring it back."

He took a breath and glanced quickly at Clark before returning his attention to his guardian.

"I knew you'd ground me if you knew." Clark winced. He knew what being 'grounded' meant in this household. Dick would hate to lose his status as Robin for even a temporary time. "So I went to talk to Mr. Nelson. And... he said he'd give me an 'A' if I gave him money. A lot of it. And I did. And he did. So you never knew." He finished at almost a mumble, though he bravely kept his gaze fixed on Bruce's stern face.

When Bruce didn't speak for long seconds, Clark felt compelled to step in. "Dick, he shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. Plus, it's against the law."

Dick flitted his attention from Clark to Bruce again. He nodded his head, misery steeping his small features. "It's a solicitation for bribery. That's a felony. But I did it, and I stole the money, so I broke the law _twice_."

Bruce commented, as if musing to himself, "He had a lot of nerve, asking for five thousand dollars right off the bat."

Dick wasn't the only one who went slightly pale. Clark stared from Dick to Bruce, but decided not to comment on the fact that Bruce's idea of _petty cash_ ran into four figures.

"He didn't," Dick said in a small voice. The poor kid looked like he was about to have a stroke. "He only wanted a thousand. But the next time he wanted more."

Again, Bruce didn't seem surprised. "And then more the time after that," he stated. Dick, tight-lipped, didn't deny it. "Did you stop just because you ran out of money?"

"No!" Dick blurted. Getting himself under control, he repeated, "No, I _swear_. After the first time, I studied real hard for everything, did all my work. The next test was geography, and you _know_ I'm good at that. I definitely aced it. But when I got the test back, he gave me an 'F' anyway. He'd changed the answers, the rat." Dick scowled darkly.

Bruce, meanwhile, nodded in understanding. "He wanted to keep the golden goose alive." He crossed his arms and gave Dick a sharp, assessing look. "Did you take anything else?"

"No, just... my own stuff."

"Your allowance? Your personal bank account?"

"Yeah. Everything I ever saved."

"The emergency account, too?"

"No! I would never--!"

"Because you knew I would be notified if you accessed it."

"No! Because, because I knew it would be wrong."

Again, Bruce nodded in apparent approval. Dick straightened and looked a little less like he was about to keel over. "Did he ask you for anything else?"

Dick opened his mouth, already shaking his head for a quick denial. He caught himself and seemed to consider the question carefully before replying, "No. He didn't threaten anyone close to me. He didn't ask me to commit a crime or to hurt anyone for him. He didn't ask for information about the Manor or WayneTech. He didn't try to coerce any favors from you or anyone we're connected with. He didn't suspect our secret identities."

Clark raised his eyebrows and saw Bruce do the same, though unlike himself, Bruce was evidently unsurprised by the laundry list. "And...?" the man prompted.

Dick floundered for a moment. "Um. And?"

Bruce huffed impatiently. "Did he try to hurt you?"

"Oh! No, sir. No attempted, threatened, or actual assault occurred, either physical or sexual."

Clark blinked slowly at the matter-of-fact reply. Well. Dick was only ten years old, true, but Robin was no innocent. Murder, extortion, and rape were all part of the job.

"Aside from the test scores, he didn't threaten me at all," Dick assured them again, when Bruce didn't say anything immediately. "Bruce, I'm sorry."

Bruce didn't correct the apology.

It took Clark a while to figure it out: Right. Dick hadn't been hurt. He hadn't been a victim. Therefore he'd had no excuse to commit a felony.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on his ward's downbent head. Clark tried to guess what he was thinking. He hoped Bruce wouldn't be too harsh on the kid. For all his street smarts and maturity, Dick was still only a child. Children were often hapless targets, easy to take advantage of. Fighting criminals as Robin was one thing. Encountering evil in his civilian life was another.

Bruce, for his part, seemed to ignore Clark's presence. Clark wasn't so sure how aware Dick was of him, either. As much comfort as Dick might have derived from Clark's presence when he was first broaching the subject, Clark could tell that there was only one man in the room who had the power to truly make the boy feel better. He wondered if he was only making the situation awkward for the both of them. But he had made the boy a promise to stand by him and he meant to do that.

Finally, Bruce spoke. "We'll have to talk about your punishment for lying to me."

Dick looked up, his expression resigned, yet... hopeful? "Yes, sir."

"As for Nelson. Taking care of him is going to require a little more finesse than we usually employ. We can't exactly attack your teacher and string him up, now can we?"

"I guess not," Dick agreed with a surprised smile. "Boy, did I ever want to punch his lights out, though."

"Why didn't you?" Clark asked, both angry at this so-called teacher on Dick's behalf and also curious about the rationale of a boy who spent his nights beating up adults.

Dick looked up at him. "I'm not supposed to get into fights." The irony of the statement surprised a smile from Clark. Bruce's idea of good behavior for a youngster could be described as schizophrenic, at best. Dick, evidently reading his expression, explained, "Because then people might guess."

That sobered him again. Yes, of course. Dick Grayson, former aerialist, might be expected to climb trees and do the occasional somersault, but it would set people wondering if he were to start engaging in (and handily winning) fistfights. It wasn't just physical danger that comprised the risk of being Robin.

"All right, then," Bruce said. "We can do this two ways."

Dick straightened, and Clark noticed how he seemed to stand at attention, eager for redemption in his mentor's eyes.

"I can go in with you tomorrow and raise a stink. Demand the money back and threaten to call in the police. We only have your testimony for evidence, but the weight of Bruce Wayne's influence might be able to scare him into confessing."

"Or...?" Dick queried, his curiosity and mind for crime-busting momentarily erasing his former apprehension.

" _Or_ , you can go talk to him alone -- wearing a wire. He'll probably fold when you confront him with the recording. Criminals like him are usually cowardly. He's only been blackmailing you because he thinks you can't stand up to him."

"You mean I'll be sort of _undercover_? Just me?" Dick exclaimed, his words almost tumbling over each other in his excitement.

"It's about time you tried it on your own. I think you're more than ready for it. 'Batman' will be ready to back you up if he causes problems." Bruce gestured toward the door with his chin. "Go get the gear, then sit down and make a list of all the things you need to get him to say and a few scripts for how you'll do it. Bring it to me when you're done. I'll be right here."

Eyes sparkling, all his former worry forgotten, Dick scampered off, leaving the study door swinging behind him as he bounced down the hallway in a few well-placed cartwheels.

As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Bruce asked, in a tone casual enough that no one (Dick) would feel compelled to eavesdrop, "Was he telling the truth?"

Clark frowned. Did Bruce think Dick would _lie_ about something like this?

Bruce glared black ice at Clark and clarified, still in that casual tone, "Did the piece of scum hurt him?"

 _Oh_. "Has he learned your tricks yet?"

Bruce shook his head.

"Then no, I don't think so." Heartbeat and respiration hadn't changed, and there'd been no abnormal perspiration or other outward signs of nervousness. Clark had also checked the boy over with his x-ray vision and hadn't seen anything unusual -- at least, not for Robin's activities, he thought. "He does have some bruises," he admitted, just to be sure.

Bruce's entire body hardened, like a sharpened dagger ready to be thrown. For a moment, Clark was taken aback. He had only ever seen Bruce that way in costume and in battle. " _Where_ ," the man growled.

"Right side. Impact bruise. And finger marks on his shoulders, like he was grabbed from behind. Large man, probably left-handed."

Bruce relaxed. "That's from a drug meet two nights ago. One of the muscle got the drop on us."

Clark acknowledged the information with a nod, relieved. Then he took a moment to boggle over the fact that a kid getting seized by a drug runner was considered the better of two options.

"I didn't think Nelson was the sort," Bruce remarked. "Nothing in his profile suggests it while everything does suggest a simple need for quick cash. He has perennial gambling debts, and his wife just divorced him."

"How--?" Clark broke off, realizing it was a stupid question. Bruce probably ran regular checks on all the people that passed through his household. Clark wondered if the man had gone as far as to check the neighborhood postman. He stopped wondering when he realized that, too, was a stupid question. "Did you already know Dick was stealing the money?"

Bruce smiled wryly. "Not until he'd been doing it for a few weeks. The boy's good. He must have been paying close attention to how Alfred handles the accounts so that he could take the money when it would minimize the most noticeable discrepancies."

"Sounds like it's lucky he's on our side."

Instead of showing pride for his charge, Bruce glowered. "He _should_ have been focusing all that energy on figuring out how to take down Nelson."

"He couldn't have without confessing the circumstances to you."

Bruce didn't answer that, but Clark knew he had a sharp mind for putting together clues and understanding motives.

"You know how much being Robin means to him. And you know how much he looks up to you."

Bruce snorted, disbelieving.

"Haven't you noticed how the boy comes alive at the slightest bit of praise from you?"

"That's because he knows he has to earn it. He's a soldier, not some trained lapdog. I don't give him a cookie every time he does a trick."

"I understand that, but if you would just show Dick some appreciation..." It didn't take much to make the boy happy. Clark wondered how aware Bruce was of that.

"He knows how I feel about him."

Dick put his life in Bruce's hands every night. There was no doubt in Clark's mind that the boy would throw himself in front of a bullet if Batman asked it of him. To Bruce's credit, Clark was certain he would never ask. Still, he rather doubted that Dick ever jumped into Bruce's arms out of fun and affection as he had earlier with Clark.

He sighed. "I just think you don't know what you're missing -- and that's a sad thought."

Bruce gave him an inscrutable look. "I'm not his hero," he said shortly. "I'm the bad cop."

"No, that's not it," Clark immediately disagreed. "Don't be dense, Bruce. You don't need me to tell you, you're as close to a father to him as Dick's got."

Bruce's jawline constricted slightly. "I'm not his father. That's not what he needs from me."

"Are you sure about that?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Are you telling me how to raise him?"

"Well, not exactly. But--"

"Good." The benign mask of Bruce Wayne suddenly snapped into place. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to go now. I have so much to do. I can barely keep up with the office."

Clark frowned at the clear dismissal. "Bruce--"

"Bruce!"

They both turned as Dick burst back into the room at a run, some wires and what looked like a microphone and a tape player slung over one shoulder. With his free hand, he thrust two sheets of scrawled-over lined paper in his mentor's face. "I wrote some ideas down, just like you said. Mr. Nelson won't know what hit him when--"

Bruce held up a hand. "Clark was just leaving. Why don't you say goodbye to him."

Stopped mid-word in his prattling, Dick gaped up at Clark with evident disappointment. "You have to go? Right now?"

Clark patted his shoulder. "I still have to write up the report for my interview with Mr. Wayne."

"You'll visit again soon, right?" he pressed.

"Can't make any promises, but I'll try." That caused the kid to brighten.

"Okay. See you around, Clark!"

"Bye." He ruffled Dick's hair, then turned to Bruce to shake his hand. "Good luck." When that got him a raised eyebrow, he added, "With your sting, I mean." That got a brief look of wry amusement from the serious man. "I'll show myself out, thank you."

As he left, he tuned his hearing back to the room and clearly picked up Dick's excited voice saying, "...so that he'll have to talk about the other times, right? Just like when you got that swindler to tell us about where he was stashing the goods. And maybe there's other kids who..."

Clark smiled, and tipped his hat to Alfred on the way out.

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following two scans, and influenced by a scattering of stories from vintage Batman and Detective Comics:
> 
> [](http://s182.photobucket.com/albums/x9/kuonji14/Petty%20Cash/?action=view&current=ActionComics771notasuicide1.jpg)  
> (Action Comics #771)
> 
> [](http://s182.photobucket.com/albums/x9/kuonji14/Petty%20Cash/?action=view&current=dickbruceiamlyingtoyourface.jpg)  
> (Nightwing #90-something?)
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
>      [A Story With A Capital 'S' (Or Two)](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/53103.html) (Nightwing, Teen Titans v3), by kuonji   
>      [An Oversight of Underthings](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/52233.html) (Nightwing), by kuonji   
>      [All Grown Up](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/36806.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji  
>      [Five Times Batman Got It Wrong](http://irrelevant.dreamwidth.org/99137.html) (DCAU, Batman), by irrelevant  
>      [In loco parentis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/240624) (Nightwing), by Petra


End file.
